


Sassing by Inanimate Objects: a five-and-one

by circ_bamboo



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Gen, background threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times inanimate objects at Stark Tower--well, really Tony and JARVIS--sassed Clint, and one time he got Tony back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sassing by Inanimate Objects: a five-and-one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adorable_eggplant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorable_eggplant/gifts).



_one_

In rapid succession, Clint buries five arrows in the middle of the target in his range in the Tower. Practicing by shooting from a set distance into a stationary target is just fun, not work, but it’s been a long day and he’d like a little fun. He goes up to the target to pull the arrows out and hears, “Well done, Master Barton.”

It’s JARVIS’s voice, of course, but it sounds like it’s coming from--the target? He frowns and runs his fingers across the front of the target until he finds the tiny dot just on the edge, rough under his fingertips. Weird. Why would there be a speaker in the target? “Thanks, JARVIS,” he says.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

_two_

A day or two later, he’s climbing around in the air ducts because he can. Right now he’s above Tony’s personal lab, and he finds a convenient vent to look out of. He doesn’t actually care what Tony’s doing in his lab, but he might as well keep his skills up.

Tony and Bruce are standing in front of one of the holographic displays, looking at an exploded diagram of--something; Clint’s an assassin, not an engineer. Tony’s poking at the diagram and removing parts and throwing them in a little holographic trash can, which is kind of cute. Clint wishes he had a holographic trash can for a moment, and then shakes his head. “Ridiculous,” he murmurs, barely audible, and certainly not loud enough for Tony and Bruce to hear.

“Did you say something, Master Barton?” JARVIS says, the voice coming about six inches from Clint’s ear.

Clint jumps about six inches into the air and glares out the vent at Tony, whose shoulders are shaking with laughter. He reaches up with his hand and finds the speaker, embedded into the metal wall of the duct. “Nothing, JARVIS,” he says, and goes to find another portion of the ducts to explore.

_three_

It’s four in the morning, and Clint can’t sleep. It could be jet lag; it could be the double espresso he had at ten PM; it could be that he strongly suspects he can hear two (or more) people having sex and doesn’t want to speculate on who.

(It’s totally Tony and Pepper. He’s unclear as to who the third person is, but he has his suspicions.)

(Okay, it’s Bruce, but he refuses to think about it any more on account of not having any brain bleach on hand.)

It could be just that he really doesn’t want to sleep, and he doesn’t care which. Instead he goes down to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares inside as if the secrets of the universe were contained therein.

“Are you in need of assistance, Master Barton?”

Goddamn JARVIS! Altogether too helpful. “No, I think I’m good,” he says, “but thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Master Barton.”

Strange. For all the world, it sounds as if JARVIS’s voice is coming from the toaster. He thought the toaster had its own voice. Oh well.

_four_

Okay, this is getting weird. Why is there a _speaker_ in his _toothbrush holder_?

_five_

Ahh, movie night. Always a good form of entertainment--not the movies, but watching Cap watch movies, and listening to Tony’s increasingly-ridiculous explanations of the historical and cultural significance of the current offering: _The Big Lebowski_.

“No, seriously, the rug is very important, not just to the film, but to the whole oeuvre of the Coen brothers.”

Clint supposes he could interrupt, and make life easier both for Steve, who can only tell when Tony is bullshitting about half the time, and for Bruce, who is desperately trying not to laugh as Tony talks about the iconic significance of White Russians and bowling, but . . . nah.

Besides, he wants to see what color Steve will turn when Julianne Moore says ‘vagina.’

“I could use some popcorn,” he says under his breath.

“That can be arranged,” JARVIS says, from _right under his left hand_.

Clint jumps into the air non-metaphorically this time and finds himself perched on the back of the couch, staring at the armrest.

Tony stops in the middle of his explanation to stare at Clint, a grin spreading across his face, and Bruce almost falls out of his chair laughing. Natasha, at the other end of the couch, looks highly amused. Even Steve cracks a smile.

“Sorry to have surprised you, Master Barton,” JARVIS says, its tones bland.

Yeah, this means war.

_and one_

Clint isn’t a complete novice with electronics by any means, but one doesn’t need to be any more than a novice to find a small, battery-powered speaker on the internet. He is smart enough to use a public computer at the library, though, and a credit card he’s absolutely sure Tony doesn’t know about. Once he gets the speaker, he replaces the battery in it with one from his alarm clock, which is the same type but an experiment of Tony’s and should last a lot longer.

He also buys a tiny MP3 player, and steals the battery from Nat's alarm clock for that one (what; it's not like she's using it) and loads the player with several old Bulgarian-language radio broadcasts and the collected works of John Cage before setting it at just-barely-audible-for-Tony levels and hitting the ‘random’ button. He wraps the whole thing with duct tape and, one night when he’s absolutely sure that Tony is otherwise occupied (he still needs more brain bleach), he sits down to have a heart-to-heart (or heart-to-something or other) with JARVIS.

“JARVIS,” he says.

“Yes, Master Barton?”

He holds up the duct-taped ball, not even as large as his fist. “I swear it’s not a bomb, or anything that might harm Tony or anyone else in this building,” he says.

“I am aware of that, Master Barton.”

“Are you going to tell on me when I put this near the duct in Tony’s lab?”

There’s a pause, and then JARVIS says, “I do not believe that I am required by my programming to tell Master Stark of your, ah, toy, regardless of its location.”

“Excellent,” Clint says, steepling his fingers together. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“You’re welcome, Master Barton.”

He waits until the noises (that he is really most definitely trying not to listen to, and _why_ aren’t the bedrooms more adequately soundproofed?) stop; if Tony follows his usual pattern, he’ll be down in his lab in about a half hour, and, most importantly--he won’t turn any music on until dawn. (Clint really doesn’t want to think about what Tony’s hearing in his head.)

Clint puts the speaker by the vent above Tony’s head, turns the MP3 player on, and then heads over to the other vent, the one with the speaker by it, and waits.

Tony appears thirty-four minutes later, right on time, a spring in his step, and spins on his chair a couple times before opening up whatever his latest project is. It takes a good ten minutes before he tilts his head to one side and says, “What did you say, JARVIS?”

“I did not say anything, Master Stark.”

“Ah. Okay. Can you show me the numbers from the left gauntlet from two weeks ago?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ten minutes later, Tony tilts his head to the side again, and says, “No, I’m definitely hearing something. JARVIS, is that you?”

“No, sir, it is not.”

“Well, what is it, then?”

“I believe it is _Imaginary Landscapes No. 4_ , by John Cage.”

Tony pauses, looks up at the vent above his head, and then turns his chair to look at Clint’s vent. “Clint!” he says.

“Yes, dear?” he says.

“Not cool!”

Clint just laughs, and retrieves the speaker before Tony can find a ladder to get to the vent. Besides, he’ll definitely want to use it again.

Like maybe tomorrow.

(And maybe on Steve after that.)

**Author's Note:**

> A couple weeks ago I was reading a story where a typo made it look as if a chair was sassing Clint. The rest is, they say, history.
> 
>  _Imaginary Landscapes No. 4_ is written for 12 radios and 24 performers in pairs; one performer has control of the tuner and the other the volume. It sounds about how you would imagine.
> 
>  
> 
> [The speaker that Clint buys](http://www.thinkgeek.com/computing/speakers/9e68/detail/)


End file.
